


no one gave a warning to the breaking of your heart

by nebulousviolet



Series: all your moving parts [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst!, F/F, Open ending kinda, hopeful, lowercase abuse, mentions of baso everyone, part 2 of renee freaking out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 14:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulousviolet/pseuds/nebulousviolet
Summary: allison watches her talk through lidded blue eyes, the same colour as shrivelled violets.





	no one gave a warning to the breaking of your heart

**Author's Note:**

> title from moving parts by trixie mattel.  
> lots of war and peace references bc i love natasha rostova and her and natalie share both a name and some character qualities in a twisted way. also i need metaphors and name symbolism to be stolen from me ok i am far too generous with them

“oh my god,” allison laughs as she clatters loudly inside, her various accessories clicking when she moves. new york has done her good; she’s had extensions put back in her pale gold hair so that it reaches her waist, and her skin is all glowy and fresh from a trip to her favourite spa, no doubt. allison wants them to move to nyc one day, has begged renee for months, but renee likes sacramento. she likes being able to grab brunch with jean whenever he’s having a bad day and seeing his face relax a little as they talk. she’ll have to give in at some point, though, for allison’s career’s sake, if not her own. god knows she’d be world famous by now if they’d moved there already. “babe, i have so many nice things for you. angeline just brought out this new line of skirts, they’re long, don’t worry-“  
“allison,” she says quietly, and her girlfriend’s eyes soften. allison hates the day or so after she comes back from one of her jaunts; she says she feels like she’s sixteen again and trying to prove something to her parents. renee doesn’t realise she’s crying until she feels allison’s thumb on her cheek, wiping the tears away. “sorry.”  
“it’s okay,” allison says, and she bites her lip. there’s something like apprehension on her face, an emotion entirely unfamiliar to her, renee knows. maybe she should feel guilty for causing it, but all she feels is a pit in her stomach. “i just...it’s hard, because i saw this happen with seth. and yeah, that was completely different, but…” she trails off, and clears her throat. “we both know how that story ended. he was murdered, but chances are he would’ve killed himself for real anyway. then you have andrew and neil, who are both equally fucked up in different ways, bless their little sports gay souls-“  
she’s rambling, and renee smiles. “it’s not like that,” renee interrupts gently. “well, it is, but it isn’t. i just spent so long focusing on all the bad i did that i forgot all the bad that happened to me. this is what happens when you don’t take your own advice, i guess.”  
allison watches her talk with lidded blue eyes, the same colour as shrivelled violets. the first time renee saw allison’s eyes, she thought they were contacts. sometimes she still thinks they are; eyes that blue can surely see down to her soul, and renee’s not too sure that her soul’s a pretty thing to see. nobody’s is, though, really. we all make mistakes. she’s just made more than others, and worse ones at that.  
“you’re a saint, you know,” allison tells her, not for the first time, but on this occasion her tone is more reverent than usual. renee doesn’t exactly feel like one. she went to church yesterday and felt like a fraud the whole way through the service, the first time in years. if she loses her faith, she loses it all. she loses renee. without her religion, she is plain old natalie, dressed in blood.  
“i’m a saint who killed people,” she whispers, and allison smiles, strange and eerie. renee does not understand how people can call her vapid. that smile holds the secrets to the fabric of existence.  
“yet killing yourself won’t change that,” she returns, and renee isn’t sure how much of that is metaphorical, but she holds onto those words because they’re all she has. _natalie, natalie, natalie, if you love me say yes-_  
“killing natalie did,” renee murmurs to herself, and she leans forward to kiss allison on the mouth. she tastes of salt and faintly of liquor, which means she drank before the flight but after she called renee. allison barely drinks any more. renee’s stomach feels as curdled as sour milk. she is natasha rostova, betraying andrey for anatole, ruining a whole dynasty, ruining several families because of one action, one thoughtless encounter. she is as stupid as her namesake, and as cruel as the punishment that came unto her.

renee wrenches herself away, heart pounding. “i can’t,” she whispers, trying to convince herself of something, though she’s not sure what. this is ten years of repressed trauma filling her head with memories demanding to be acknowledged and pain that prods at her hands and feet. natalie will kill her in the end, a ghost with a dagger. god knows natalie’s good with knives, and god knows renee refuses to be. renee always knew her past would catch up to her in the end.  
“renee,” allison says, slowly, carefully, but she can’t hear her. what does she need?

 _exy_. she hasn’t played in so long. it brought renee into this world, and surely it can keep her here.

without further explanation, she walks out the front door and drives to jean’s home court.

*

jeremg knox unlocks the stadium for her without hesitation. “you know, if you wanted to play here so badly, coach would love to have a former fox on the team,” jeremy jokes, but he leaves her alone once she’s inside. jean helps her fasten into her equipment; it’s been so long since she did this dance that she’s nearly forgotten the steps. once she’s on the court, though, muscle memory fills in the rest - she completes the old drills without hesitation, and jean only stops to retie the laces on his sneakers. she feels euphoric. and then, just as suddenly, her breathing stutters. what is she doing here? allison deserves an explanation, andrew’s waiting on a call from her - she should not be wasting time playing a sport she quit willingly. but she feels so free, so selfish, so present-  
“renee,” jean says, his voice loud and echoing around the empty stadium. “this isn’t what you need right now.”  
“maybe if i just,” she begins, and he shakes his head.  
“you’ve always been a friend to me,” he says, and she concentrates on his faded accent, on his low baritone voice. “you saved me from riko. let me save you from yourself.”  
renee hates that he’s right. there’s a pain in her chest, because she hates this - hates that she’s become so fragile - but he’s right. she needs to talk to allison. she needs to apologise. she needs, she needs, she _needs_.  
“i’m so sorry, jean,” she whispers, voice cracking, heart breaking. “i just can’t be renee anymore.”  
“then don’t be,” he says, like it’s that simple. “but you’re not natalie. just like how i’m not a raven. some things we leave to rot.”

she walks back to the lockers, gets out of the borrowed gear and thanks jeremy for his time. all he does is smile, and she wonders if this is what drew jean to him. that completely non judgemental grin. jean drives her home, and yeah, she’s not renee right now, but she’s not natalie either. natalie died years ago in a court hearing, in a hairdressing salon, in a church. when she unlocks the front door, she feels almost hopeful.  
“hey,” allison greets her. “are you feeling better?”  
“a lot,” she says. “let’s talk.”

**Author's Note:**

> comment to get the third part of this series, kudos to get a vision of me screaming the plot into ur ear, leave nothing and perish


End file.
